That Music Which Brings Us Together Once More
by Hand Over The Stimulus Money
Summary: After Edward leaves Bella in the forest, she is attacked and transformed into a vampire. Twenty years later, Bella is a musician in the prestigious New York Philharmonic. The memories of Edward still haunt her. What happens when she gets a surprise visit?
1. Chapter 1

_Summary:_

After Edward leaves Bella in the forest, she is attacked and transformed into a vampire. Twenty years later, Bella is a musician in the prestigious New York Philharmonic. The memories of Edward still haunt her. What happens when she gets a surprise visit, in her own element?

I sighed, and leaned over the counter, looking the plump man in the eyes.

"Look, if you won't give me the goods at a good price, then I will have to take my business _elsewhere."_

I was about to turn around and leave, when the man groaned.

"Miss Swan, you win again. Fifty cents a bottle?" he asked, ducking under the counter.

"That will be absolutely perfect."

I beamed at the good-natured old man and quickly pressed the ten-dollar bill into his hand. I picked up the box.

"It was nice seeing you, Mister Douglas." I said, walking out the door.

"Don't forget to pick up your mouthpiece and snake brush on Tuesday!" he reminded me.

"Sure!"

I quickly headed to my red truck, a simple 1997 Ford F-150. It was a long bed, perfect for carrying my supplies. I casually tossed the box in the back, and unlocked my door, climbing into the truck. I turned on the truck quickly, fidgeting with the starter. My radio immediately turned on, music turned on lowly. The sounds of an orchestra flowed out of the speakers and I smiled.

I, Isabella Marie Sw- no, not Swan- Masen, am a trumpet player for the New York Philharmonic.

And, I am also a vampire.

Lucky me.

The first thing was a choice. The latter, well, not exactly.

After Edward had left me in the woods, things took a turn for the even worse.

"_You- you don't want me?"_

"_No."_

_-_

"_Edward!" I sobbed, curled up into a small ball at the base of a tree._

_-_

_A female vampire leaned over me, blood red eyes glistening in the moon's eternal sparkle._

"_I've got you."_

_-_

_The pain would simply not cease. I twisted and convulsed in pain, the intense ardor burning my entire body. This could not go on any further. I wished, hoped I would die, anything to save me from suffering through it completely alone._

Twenty years later, my life was very different. All those I knew previously were lost to me. I didn't even know what had happened to my father. I was completely alone, give or take a few friendly vampires I knew around the area. Mister Douglas himself was one.

Mr. Douglas's shop was one I visited often, often buying all of my supplies there, including my trumpet.

I drove through the deserted roads, knowing that the highways were more likely than not congested at the moment. My mind slowly began to drift back to Edward.

I hadn't seen Edward since. It hurt terribly to go through every day. A small detail would remind me sharply of him, and then the gaping hole in my chest, created that fateful night, would reopen, exposing my feelings.

So I threw myself into my music. It was a distraction, a way for me to escape reality. I had perfected my skill over the long period of time, and it had all paid off. I knew that eventually I would have to leave the Philharmonic. Never aging would seem peculiar to most. But I had to make the most of it.

For most, I was a musical prodigy, joining one of the world's leading groups at nineteen. I had joined a little over a year ago.

And this musical prodigy had a concert she would be even later to if she didn't step on it.

I quickly reached 85…then 90…. then 100.

Ten minutes later, I would be parking in front of my small apartment, and rushing upstairs, making sure to pull out a small bottle of that valve oil to stick in my purse before I rushed off upstairs. I didn't even get a relaxing shower. It was all a big blur.

I hastily threw on my white dress shirt and pants, meanwhile getting my hair to stay in the gentle waves they were supposed to be in. I must've sprayed at least a gallon of assorted chemicals into it. There had to be a mile wide hole above my head in the ozone layer at the moment.

I ran to my bathroom, and quickly pulled out a small bottle of liquid blush, quickly wiping it under my eyes. I was a tad hungry, but I couldn't show it up on stage. I didn't bother with anything else, and I flipped the switch as I ran out, seizing my trumpet case as I streaked out, hair flying in my eyes. I ran down the stairs, and conveniently, there was the limousine, waiting just as the director, Mr. Johnson, had promised the group.

I opened the door and gracefully slipped in, closing the door behind me. I heard a chuckle from the front as we started off.

"Saved there, Miss Masen, weren't you?"

"Don't I know it." I said, grinning.

The ride itself was relatively short. Damien, the driver, had taken the back roads, thus cutting the time into ten minutes, give or take a few.

I looked out of the darkened window, and out towards Central Park Concert Hall.. It was completely swamped with cars, and I thanked my lucky stars that Damien was a good- and fierce- driver. He quickly navigated through the small spaces, managing to squeeze out of the bottleneck traffic towards the back of the arc, where he managed to find a parking spot.

"Damien, you're a life saver."

I already was pinching the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. It was a little habit I had picked up from-

"Miss Masen, it's my job."

"And you do it very well."

I grinned at him, and climbed out of the limo, pulling my trumpet behind me.

"Have a nice night, Miss Masen."

"You also. Enjoy yourself, won't you?"

"Sure thing."

I ran up the stairs, my flats enabling me to run all the more quickly. I searched for the door- I had never been there, and was unfamiliar with the area. I desperately searched, my eyes scanning alongside the building. A cool voice, musical, rang out.

"Are you lost?"

I swiftly turned around. Behind me stood a man. He was clad in a coat, his face shadowed by a hood raised. I could not see anything about him, but there was something about him that reminded me desperately of- I cut off my thinking. There was no need to pain myself before something so important.

"Yes, I'm trying to get to my dressing room. Room G12?" I hoped I sounded more confident than what I felt.

"Down two doors." He muttered, giving me a swift nod.

He brushed past me and walked towards the end of the rooms, where he opened a door, and swept inside.

. I gaped after him, but I closed my eyes and muttered softly to myself, "_Relax."_

Walking down to the door, I cringed at what would wait for me there. With my kind of luck…before I could even open the door, the door swung open, and a pair of hands seized me and dragged me inside. I sighed with annoyance. This could only mean…

"BELLA!" Danielle fumed, dragging me inside, "You were supposed to be here about two hours ago. Where WERE you?"

"You're not my mom." I muttered under my breath, but nonetheless placed my case on a small table, and opened it, revealing the most beautiful thing in the world.

Well, at the moment, at least. Well, for me anyways.

A Yamaha trumpet, made of actual silver was resting in the velvet inside. I felt the cool metal beneath my fingertips and I smiled. It was going to be all right.

Unfortunately, a certain Danielle HAD to rip me away from my delight. I swear, the director's wife could be utterly terrifying at times.

"Isabella Masen, John has been pulling his hair out out of worry. I do not want a bald husband,"

"Yeah, yeah." I muttered, walking out of the door. Thankfully, on the inside were signs pointing me to the main warm-up area. Danielle trailed after me, occasionally hissing a threat or two, which I ignored.

I burst thru the doors, and into the blinding light. A man, tall, young, with a bit of a belly, greeted me with a groan.

"Isabella, you're going to be the death of me." He muttered, head in his palms.

"So, how much longer?" I asked, hoping I wasn't too late.

"Ten minutes." John looked at me disdainfully.

"Perfect." I grinned, and put my trumpet to my lips.

Everything seemed to clear through at that very moment. The pain, the doubt, everything, just…gone.

I hit the valves gently, switching from note to note rapidly, my fingers rapidly tapping in a series of different combinations and tones.

Mr. Johnson shoved a tuner under my nose.

"Quickly, quickly." He said, tapping his foot impatiently.

I tuned as he talked to the rest of the group.

All I heard was "Blah blah blah…. Tone quality…. blah blah blah…fingerings…blah blah blah…. Guest Director."

I looked up from my trumpet, eyes wide.

"Guest director?"

Mr. Johnson looked irritated. "Isabella, if you had shown up to the last rehearsal, you would have had a chance to meet him. We're playing music he picked and I suppose you will have to sight-read."

"And I suppose I will have to kill you." I muttered, prying the music from his fingers.

I had no time to glance over it; we got shooed out onto the stage immediately. So much for the Philharmonic, right?

I quickly made my way towards the third row, left flank, on my point of view. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I turned, looking a very tired looking assistant in the eyes.

"Honey, you have to be out in the right wing." She said, looking over me oddly.

"But- I'm supposed to play." I stammered.

"But you're supposed to introduce first."

I felt faint; the world beneath me was spinning. A wave of irritation washed over me.

"Whose great idea was that?" I muttered, annoyance evident in my voice .

"His." She said simply, handing me a note card. "Read this when I give the symbol."

I growled under my breath, but took the card and read it over. Simple enough. I carelessly threw the card back, and stepped out to the right wing, my eyes narrowed. Oh, that Mr. Johnson was a crafty one. Punish me, will he? Oh, yes, cunning, but…

"In three, two, one." Said the attendant.

I was taken aback, but I nonetheless laid my trumpet down on the ground, and stepped out. The curtains were closed, the spotlight was on me. I took a deep breath, and stood at the microphone.

"Welcome to the New York Philharmonic annual performance. We are delighted you were able to join us here tonight." I paused, "Please take a moment now, as a courtesy to those around you, and silence all noise making devices. Please, no digital photography. Thank you, and enjoy the performance."

I bowed and headed between the curtains. Oh, he was going to pay. But for now…

I quickly picked up my trumpet and turned to take a seat. But there was no chair. Why? WHY?

Mr. Johnson coughed behind me and I spun around, one hand clutching my instrument, the other on my hip. He raised an eyebrow and pointed at a chair right next to the flutes, dead center of the stage. Now I was sure. He would pay.

I mouthed 'Bite Me', and smiled inwardly. It was a tad ironic, I thought, sliding over to the chair, where my music was already sitting on the stand in front of me. I heard a chuckle and I shook my head. Why was the director so sadistic?

The velvet red curtains slid open. There must have been at least a thousand people, and I was not prepared for all this. I took a deep breath, and waited as he walked up onto his stand and raised his baton.

Our first piece was my absolute favorite. Amazing wasn't enough to describe it, it was invigorating.

"Love is Blue by Paul Mauriat." Said a woman's voice over the many amplifications.

And then…we were off.

We had spent six months on it, hammering over it many an hour. And it paid off.

My fingers flew over my keys, my mind concentrated on the moment. It was nerve-racking, it was exhausting, it was…bliss.

In an unusual way, I connected to this song. Blue…was the color that I belied love to be, now. Sorrow…but then later on, the song lightened, and it seemed, hopeful in a manner. Maybe it was a symbol of my life to come. Or maybe I wasn't too fussy with these things. I hoped it wasn't the latter.

And then it was over. The applause overflowed the air, and if my heart had been beating, I guarantee it would have stopped. I felt electricity surge in me, and I sat up a bit straighter. The feeling was irreplaceable; I had never felt like that before when playing. I closed my eyes for a second, wishing I had somebody to share this with.

And knowing that was the worst possible second to do so, and not caring, I imagined Edward, with his arms around me, every line of his handsome face in lucid Technicolor. My throat clenched, and I berated myself for my colossal stupidity. The worst possible time and place. I took a deep breath as our next song was announced.

"The Lonely Bull- solo performed by Isabella Masen and Anthony Machado." Said the voice pleasantly.

I groaned as I looked down at my sheet music. Of _course _I conveniently forgot about the solo. To think that vampires are supposed to have photographic memories..

Anthony, a base player, was sitting next to me. I flashed him a half smile, and he grinned encouragingly.

Yet again, Mr. Johnson brought his baton down and we began to play.

The song was incredibly high, very much so. I had to concentrate ten times more on this one. Measure by measure, the music became more and more blurred, until I was unable to see it, and was playing it solely by memory. Thank god for insane directors, for the first time ever, right?

The minutes flew by, and I saw a light shimmer of perspiration on my forearms. I was pushing myself, forcing myself to play as well as I could. The moment…was coming right now.

Measure one hundred eighteen, one nineteen…

I took a deep breath and stood up, right on cue, alongside Anthony. Our part was supposed to be an exchange of music, a conversation of instruments, one answering the other.

The few notes were played, and I took a deep breath.

My trumpet was already up. My mind reeled as I played my short part, slurring it carefully.

Anthony played again.

Same part…_crescendo_…louder…louder…**louder**! I screamed to myself, fingers drumming away rapidly.

And then everyone else came in. I rapidly sat down, making sure to find the correct part in the music, and played on.

My mind was going at my preferred driving speed, with so many thoughts racing.

I hadn't bothered to think about fingerings, it had all come so naturally.

I hadn't royally screwed up.

I actually liked what I sounded like.

All too soon, Mr. Johnson cut us off and bowed, as the curtains closed, signaling intermission. As soon as I was sure it was closed, I sighed, getting up.

"Who wants to help me murder Johnson?" I said, trailing out of the stage area.

I hear a smattering of laughter behind me, and kept going. I quickly found him, wiping his forehead with his tie, and drinking water from a small bottle.

I bared my teeth for a second.

"Mr. Johnson, I will have to kill you."

He rolled his eyes, "Pray tell Bella, why this time?"

I nearly growled out loud, but managed to restrain myself.

"You have a guest conductor later on tonight, that I never found out about, I get stuck introducing, you stick me out in the front, and you picked the hottest night of summer to do this thing."

"Now, now Bella. You did rather well tonight, incredibly, as a matter of fact. There's no point in complaining. Only two more songs- one with the guest director. You might want to look over the song before it's too late."

I glared at him, and walked out, grumbling under my breath.

Stupid insensitive conductors and their crazy talking…mumble mumble… I can't believe he did that…

I looked up at those around me. They were already used to my talking to myself. More often than not, they did it also. It was something that came with the stress of all this, most likely.

I was always a lonely bird in the group. I guess I could say that my music spoke for itself. In a way. Nobody bothered to make small talk.

I walked to my chair, hoping to get a look at the music before—

"Ladies, Gentlemen, please get back to your seats!" yelled Mr. Johnson, standing on his podium.

My god, he was quick. I glared daggers at him as I sat down. It was official. He hated me. Completely.

I flipped to the back of my music…there was the song, waiting. I pulled it out and read it over.

Ah ha! Rhapsody in Blue! Ah h- oh crap. This would be painful. Jazz wasn't exactly my best kind of music. I was good at it, but the quick fingerings were a bit hard.

Thankfully we had another song to go before that one. A nice western, the Magnificent Seven.

Well, it was most obvious weren't exactly standard, that was for sure.

I mean, maybe the first one, but the rest…not so much.

I sighed, the song was only a bit more than four minutes, and from what I could tell, the Rhapsody was next. Oh well, at least it was reduced.

I sat, crossing my legs slightly as I rested my trumpet on my left knee.

"Any moment now, John." Said the voice on the loudspeaker.

I snickered as he turned beet red, and turned as the curtains opened. He bowed once more to the audience, and turned back to us, baton raised in the air.

It slashed down, jumpstarting the band.

This piece was weighty on the trumpet parts; I had to keep my guard up. There were four of us, and we were expected to shine in this song. As much as Mr. Johnson irked me, for the sake of everyone else, I couldn't mess this up. I simply couldn't. I played quickly, not thinking, not feeling, just playing, acting on my instincts.

I nearly stumbled over a part where the eighth notes were at least two whole steps above the other, but I managed to catch myself, and I halted for two measures, and then continued on, blazing through the song. It was a quickly paced song, _Allegrissimo _in all its glory.

It inspired a feeling of rebelliousness and bravery, to all those who heard it. Well, that's what the paper **said** it was supposed to do. I wasn't too sure what the audience was actually hearing.

The song needed a lot of air support- thankfully I didn't need to breathe. I managed to inhale bits of air through my nostrils, while at the same time played. What I ended up with was a song that I didn't even need to rest for, helping me connect it even more.

Before I even knew it, the song was over, and Mr. Johnson turned, taking a deep bow as the curtains closed for a second time, marking the change between conductors. An uneasy feeling spread throughout my body, reaching my fingertips in an instant. Something was about to happen, I could feel it.

The conductor smiled and said, "Okay children," I scoffed at his teasing, many of us were older than him. I hid a grin as I imagined his face if he ever realized that I was at least fifteen years older than him, "Behave."

With a nod towards the right, he stepped off the stage. I turned to see exactly who emerged from the curtains.

And then I saw somebody I had thought I would never see again.

_A/N: I already have Chapter Two written up- review for a quicker update!_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N. Thank you for all the kind reviews and adds and such. Eight reviews! You guys made my day._

Edward Cullen, the one and only, shook Mr. Johnson's hand, and began to converse with him, talking in a low voice.

My memories were unworthy compared to the Greek god standing mere feet from were I was. The sharp angles of his face were defined in the bright lights. He had shadows under his eyes- he was hungry. I was transfixed, my eyes taking in his sight hungrily, as though I would never see him again.

And with a pang, I realized that that scenario could, and most likely would, occur. My heart seemed to tighten in my chest, as the flood of emotions I had been holding back throughout the concert rushed through my body like a waterfall, leaving me stunned. As much as I tried to pry my eyes away, I simply couldn't, as though a charm held me in place, unable to move a slightest bit.

I could only watch as Mr. Johnson walked away. Edward walked up to the podium, and smiled, although the smile did not reach his eyes. His eyes…were a charcoal black- he had dark shadows underneath them.

"Ladies, Gentlemen, my name is Edward Cullen." He murmured, his voice still the honey sweet velvet that I had loved, "Before we continue with the performance, I'd like to know your names, just for the sake of," he pondered it a second, "Familiarity."

My breath was coming out in short, choppy waves, and my hands were shaking. What would I tell him? I couldn't very well tell him my name- that wouldn't be of any good. He had said he didn't want me. I had to respect that, and I couldn't very well make attention towards myself. He would ask questions, and I didn't think I would be able to deal with it, not then.

"Let's start with our stringed section. Cellos, please?"

The list was fairly quick- there were only about five cellos, most of them eager to get the ordeal over with. It was from that moment on that I hate cellos. They couldn't have stalled, could they?

As I looked up at _him, _I noticed an expression in his eyes that I did not expect. There was a hint of…pain? Frustration?

"And now the violins."

This section decided to go a little bit slower. I silently thanked them.

But why was I trying to avoid this? It was inevitable now, the only thing left to do was to take bravely, without breaking down.

I took a deep breath, willing myself to not curl up into a little ball right there and then, and let the pain wash over me. It was a definite struggle, and I fought desperately for it not to show. Even after a transformation and twenty years, I still remembered clearly the fact that Edward could read my face like an open book. Ythank goodness he couldn't do that with my thoughts.

Edward nodded, the odd expression still etched lightly on his face, "Flutes and clarinets."

I was blocking out the voices of those talking around me, mind whirring desperately.

What would happen once he got to me? If he ignored me, that would be the best for everyone. But if he got in deeper, then who knows what would happen? I wasn't afraid of talking to him, that was not the matter. But who knew how much the conversation would hurt me? After twenty years, my foolish heart still loved him. Would it be able to be broken one last time? Or would it shatter?

Would it push me over the edge? Would I do something drastic?

"And finally, my brass people."

My throat tightened, and I clutched my other hand tightly, knowing I could crush my trumpet if I held it too tightly.

"David Acampo, Renée Abuganara, Kathy McLain.." the names were squished together into a big jumble of noise

"Merith Escobar." Muttered that whom I knew was the last one before me.

My stomach flipped, and I took a deep breath.

"Isabella Marie Masen." I murmured quietly.

Edward looked at me, his face unreadable. "I'm sorry, could you say that a little louder?"

Little-

"Isabella Marie Masen." I said a bit louder.

Wasn't it bad enough he left me? Did he have to humiliate me?

"I'm sorry?" he said, his face expression

I gaped at him incredulously. What the hell?

My anger took over me, and I flew into a rage.

I nearly screamed at him, "My name is ISABELLA MARIE MASEN!"

There were no words to describe that exact moment in time. Everything seemed to freeze in place. The bizarre expressions on everyone's faces. It was completely quiet, except for a dull noise coming from behind the curtains. And as for Edward…His face was a mixture of emotions, shock overbearing them, however.

He composed himself in record time, quickly straightening his face.

"No need to yell, Miss Masen." He said coldly, turning to face the violins slightly.

The words hit me full blast. I felt them sting, tug at my heartstrings brutally. The words themselves were harmless, the way he said them were brutal. They reminded me of that day at the meadow, the way he said them, heartless and cruel. My heart was shattered. I gasped for breaths noiselessly, feeling the air fill my lungs. Whatever he had ever said about breathing- it wasn't true. Breaths were the only things giving me any sort of strength at the moment.

My chest no longer had a hole in it. It was all gone. A big hollow. The pain threatened to consume me there and then. It had been exactly what I had been trying to prevent. But that damned hope, that damned love had kept me there. It had been my destruction.

I had to get through the next hour without collapsing. As soon as it was all over, I was free to do whatever the hell I wanted. I looked ahead of me, knowing very well what was evident in my expression, but I chose to ignore it, not caring what everyone else thought. I had to throw myself in, like before, and stay there, without a care in the whole world.

I watched blandly as the curtain opened, exposing all those outside. I didn't feel the same excitement as before. I only stared as he took a bow in front of the audience, and turned to face us, baton raised. I quickly pulled my music to the front, and read it over carefully. Unfortunately for me, I needed a wow-wow mute.

Quickly searching for an attendant in the back, I quickly found one. As quietly as possible, I pointed at my trumpet and pulled back and forth inside the bell. The attendant grinned and pulled a wow-wow out of her front pack. I sat there, wondering how exactly she did that, when she threw it at me. Acting quickly, I grabbed it, hoping, and secretly knowing, that nobody had seen me. I quickly placed it on my stand- I wasn't going to need it too soon yet.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the New York Philharmonic playing the introduction for the jazz song Rhapsody In Blue. Playing the solos will be Daniel Fernandez and Saline Jameson," Said the female's voice.

My eyes stayed on the baton, unwavering as I raised my trumpet lightly. It swung down like a pendulum, along with my trumpet. There was a clarinet solo at the beginning, from what I understood.

Quickly, I raised my trumpet, and came in, the notes low, contrasting with those of the clarinet's. It was an interchange of music also, the clarinet trading off with the trumpets and trombones.

We launched softly into the main song, very lightly and carefully. My mind was concentrated on the music alone. And then…I quickly inserted the wow-wow into my trumpet, setting my trumpet in my lap for a second.

I pulled my trumpet up to my lips, playing softly as I pulled and pushed the wow-wow with one hand, the other tapping away at my valves. I was completely surprised when I realized I was the only one playing, but I nonetheless pushed through, and I heard the piano join in, making a medley of music. I took the opportunity and pulled the wow-wow out, just in time for the cymbal crash, to the point where we were supposed to play stronger. And just as suddenly, the fortissimo was reduced to a piano. The song was full of these little twists and turns. They kept one on ones toes, staying alert.

The piano was playing solo, starting off gently and soft, to a point where it was quickly paced. It seemed to resemble a chasing scene, with much trilling.

The music jumped to another place quickly. The piano played smooth, gentle notes. The group burst in strongly, blasting the music throughout the area. Just as quickly, the piano's gentle melody was returned, giving one a feeling of calm- and yet again, the band came in, blasting everyone's ears out. It was a hilarious sight, I pondered, as we finished up the song, seeing all those in the audience shaken up.

I desperately tried to ignore Edward. It was easier than I thought, I quickly realized, as I looked over the audience. Many were on their feet, giving us the standing ovation of our lifetimes. I felt the pain fade for a couple of moments as I watched, completely awed.

I was so distracted that I hadn't even noticed Mr. Johnson quickly approaching us, smiling, with the greatest glow. All the irritation at him washed away. It was great to see him happy, not frustrated and worried as usual.

He walked over, and murmured to us, "Okay guys, I want you to file off of the stage, if you played a solo, please stay on the stage."

He paused, "You did a terrific job."

There was a wave of whispers, he hadn't ever said that. The curtains closed gently, and there was a slight scratching of chairs being pulled off the stage, and of stands being put away. The same attendant from before approached me and took my trumpet gingerly from me. I smiled and nodded. I trusted her.

All four of us stood in the front, nervously awaiting what was beyond the curtains. I felt a pinky wrapped around mine, and I looked up into the eyes of Saline. I looked down the line; the boys had done the same. We were linked. We had never talked before- but the solidarity of the moment filled my heart with emotion. We had all been together, we would face this together.

Busy as I was, I couldn't help but sneak a look at Edward, my mind- and heart- itching for a look, out of, was it stupidity or curiosity? It was mostly a mixture of both. He was watching us with a look of curiosity. I looked ahead, as the voice crackled.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the night's soloists."

I smiled at the other three, and received smiles back. We took a step forward, and past the curtains. The lights went off immediately, flashes everywhere, and screams pierced the air. A rumbling was heard in the audience, it quickly grew into a massive sound wave that enveloped us. It took me a second to realize that it was clapping, That incredible, surreal noise was because of us. It was mind-blowing, incredibly so, that so many people appreciated the music so much.

And before I even realized a thing, bouquets of roses were laid in each of our arms. We let go instantly, arms wrapped around the arrangements.

I looked down at mine, a smile growing on my face. They were blood red, the buds closed tightly. They seemed to sparkle with their own light, shimmering in the lights. A thin ribbon held them together perfectly, whiles a clear plastic cover stayed in place, protecting them from the elements. I breathed in the smell of them, sweet, floral. It was incredibly touching, and my heart was the lightest it had been in the entire evening.

Slowly, the curtains began to open, and we took our cue, and walked off of the stage, where in the very front were seats, most obviously reserved for us. May have been the big Reserved sign that clued me in…

Nonetheless, we sat silently, watching what would be the last act of the evening. And I had no idea what or who was going to do it, although, and I thought this painfully, I believed it was Edward.

My eyes were wide in surprise as the curtain opened completely, exposing a grand piano sitting in the middle of the hall. My eyes traveled to the person poised on it, my gaze unwavering on him. Edward was about to play.

"Ladies, Gentlemen- Belle Lullaby by Edward Cullen."

My heart clenched at the simple statement of the title- had he meant it to be so similar to my name? Or was it a coincidence? Was it- was it **my **lullaby? No, I scorned myself, my chest feeling empty, not my lullaby. My lullaby had been gone twenty years ago; it had left with Edward. No, it was simply Beautiful Lullaby.

His eyes were closed, and he set his fingers on the ivory keys, and played my lullaby.

I sat rigid, my hand clenched tensed around the other. It had been years since I last heard it- the pain was worse than ever. It ran through me like an electrical charge, I was anguished. Twenty years of avoiding the pain were catching up to me. And suddenly, it fell away. The torturous pain was gone; my mind was instantly cleared, as the music washed it away slowly.

Several images flashed through my mind at that very moment. Our old meadow. Running through the woods. The first time we kissed. His arms encircled around me, lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. Him, playing the lullaby for the first time.

The music encircled me, enchanted me. My mind was in euphoric state- I truly believed that it was all true. That it wasn't a cruel prank. That my Edward was mere meters from me, playing my lullaby. He was mine, and mine alone.

I heard every single thing, my mind grasping at all it could- the way his fingers moved flawlessly over the keys, the subtle way he moved with the music- were all imprinted in my mind.

And, I slowly realized, that this could be the last time I ever saw Edward. This could be the last time- and my chest burned with apprehension and hurt. It would be so much worse after this, having to be accustomed to the fact that he had been so close, so attainable…if it weren't for the fact that he didn't want me.

He didn't want me.

And I wouldn't force myself on him.

The music ended, and my decision was made. I wouldn't contact him. I would not bother him. As much as it hurt, as much as I wanted desperately to talk to him, I wouldn't.

Watching as Edward stood and took a bow, I couldn't help but give him one last reminder of myself. It was childish, it was immature, but I stood, and pulling a rose from my bouquet, I placed it on the stage. Quickly spinning around, I ran out of the concert hall and out, holding back choked dry sobs.

The roses hung limp in my arms. I quickly threw them down on the concrete, ignoring them as I ran as fast as I could. I felt free, wild, unaware of my surroundings, running for the hell of it. I had to stop eventually, and I couldn't just leave the city that easily. As I slowed to a stop, I realized that I was well away from the center of the park- my feet were planted firmly by a large pond, surrounded by trees. Nobody was around, it was still and peaceful. Exactly what I needed at that very moment. I sighed and walked over to the bench, lying down on the cold stone.

I let the emotions wash over me undisturbed. I had not the strength, nor the will, to fight it. All I wanted to do now was be alone. I didn't want to talk to anyone, have to explain.

I was drained, both physically and mentally, by seeing him. The ache in my chest pulsed continually, stronger with each passing minute. I knew things would never return to normal- to the way they had been…a mere three hours before? Was it that little?

I would have to go off again, keep a low profile.

A new life, with a destroyed heart. And I had no hope of doing otherwise.

I couldn't return to the group, not after that little performance of mine after his playing. My heart wrenched as I considered it. I would be miserable. At least before I had something to do. I could take up another instrument? Anything to distract me. But I feared nothing would. And I slowly realized that what I was trying to avoid had happened, and that I would indeed do something drastic.

Something drastic.

Volterra.

Perhaps I could go, and then…

Maybe they would accept.

And if they wouldn't…well, I could take matters into my own hands, couldn't I? It was not difficult to find a vampire willing to destroy me. Along the years, I had discovered that a single slip could gain you enemies for eternity. Perhaps even find a group of vampires…

"Nice night to consider suicide, isn't it?" said a musical voice behind me.

I jumped up, standing in a defensive stance, crouched slightly.

Edward put his hands out in front of him.

"I won't bite." He said, flashing a smile. I was frozen. That beautiful half-smile of his.

I never thought I would see it again.

"Bella." His voice was anxious, "Bella, I- I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything." I murmured, walking past him, in an effort to walk out of the clearing.

His hand closed around my upper arm, spinning me around.

"This can't end like this. I know what you're thinking, Alice told saw it. You can't do this Bella, you can't d—" Edward was cut off.

"Why Edward? Tell me, why? I have control of what I am, what I do. You cannot tell me what to do." I spat, pulling my hair back.

"Bella, I can't leave you to die! You are-"

"You can't leave me to die? Edward, why should you care? Remember you didn't want me? I was left alone! Alone. Victoria bit me, didn't you ever find out?" I screamed, furious.

Edward looked shocked. "Bella- I, never knew."

I raised my hand, where a crescent moon was shaped delicately on my palm.

"See this, Edward? I had to face THREE DAYS of hell. By. Myself. Do you know how much of a comfort it would have been to have you?" I enunciated every word carefully, "And after that, I had to shut myself up. I had the most terrible blood lust, but I held it back. It hurt terribly, and I'll be the first to admit it, I slipped. I slipped. I felt so guilty afterwards; I would curl up and go off. After I managed to control myself, it hurt so much to go through every damned day. A little thing could set me off, send me twisting into the pain of you. I threw myself into my music. Hours and hours every day. Soundproof rooms, basements…. Twenty years of practice brought me to where I am today. Just when the pain was lessening, you show up."

My eyes were flashing with anger at the horrified Edward.

"So don't come with me with this crap of not leaving me to die. I've been dead, Edward! Having nobody to turn to, only a few people here and there! My life has been hell Edward."

"Because if anything, it would be a relief to die. I would leave this all behind, because there IS no point to living, if you don't have love." My voice was choked with emotion.

Edward grabbed my wrist rapidly, the only thing preventing me from walking away. No, I was strong enough to make him let go, but there was something in his eyes that convinced me to stay.

"Bella, if you think that I do not love you, then you have another thing coming." He said quietly, dropping my wrist. He sat at the bench, head in his palms.

"Oh, gods, how do I explain this? Bella- I never stopped loving you. You were- and still are- my everything. My moon, my stars, everything." He paused, looking up with me, despair etched on his face.

"It hurt so much, to leave you in the woods. I had convinced myself it was for the best, you would grow out of me. But, I didn't expect you to believe me so quickly. That you would be so sure of the truth that I would have to lie through my teeth for hours before I could even plant the seed of doubt in your mind. But how could you believe me? After all the thousands of times I had told you that I loved you, how could you let one word break your faith in me?" he said, sadness and guilt ridden in his eyes.

I was silent. I could say nothing, shocked as I was. He had always loved me. And I had loved him also.

He continued, "I could see it in your eyes, that you honestly _believed_ that I didn't want you any more. The most absurd, ridiculous concept—as if there were any way _I_ could exist without needing _you_!"

"I lied to save you, and it didn't work. I'm- I'm sorry Bella. And I know that is no excuse, and I am the lowest of the low, for leaving you. I was told- that you were killed. Killed by a wild animal. They had 'evidence'. Victoria must have cooked it up. When I found out- I was anguished. I escaped to Volterra, pleaded with them to kill me—"

"No." I gasped quietly. He had suffered for me also.

"They refused. Alice caught me, and convinced me, that you would have wanted me to go on. So I didn't go through with it. The years after were torture- pure torture. I no longer had a reason to live. So I too, threw myself into my music. And this evening- when I saw you lost, I nearly broke down, there and then."

I sat on the bench next to Edward, looking at him anxiously. He was so close. So, so close.

"Bella- all I can say is- I love you. So very much. And if you hate me now, well, that's alright. I can just walk away right now, and never come back."

My chest tightened with the prospect, he couldn't leave! Not when I had him so close.

"Edward." I rasped, reaching out for his hand, "I never want you to leave me, again. Never. Twenty years is a long time- I don't want to live eternity without you next to me."

And without a moment's hesitation, he kissed me.

And at that moment, I knew it would be alright.


End file.
